


A Leap in the Right Direction

by ash_mcj



Series: Random Gallavich [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, Gallavich, I Love You, I'm gay, Insecure Mickey, Kissing, M/M, Mickey Uses His Words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 07:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9311567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_mcj/pseuds/ash_mcj
Summary: Mickey finds Ian picking flower petals--okay, how gay can you seriously be?--and finally accepts the two things he's tried his hardest to deny, but deep-down never could: he loves Ian Gallagher, and he's gay.It's fluffy...yeah...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was sitting on the ground, absent-mindedly playing with some grass and flowers around me, and got this idea. My brain won't let me focus on my homework until I get it out of my system, so I figured I'd just write this out real quick...I hope you guys like it!
> 
> Not beta-read and quickly written, so...sorry.

_"You love me...and you're gay." Ian choked out, kneeling on the ground and clutching his stomach, where Mickey had just punched him. There was deep-rooted determination in his green eyes, and it unnerved the raven-haired boy. Ian knew Mickey was scared, but he needed to hear it. He needed him to tell him that whatever was going on wasn’t just some meaningless fling, because he didn’t see it as that anymore. "Just admit it. Just this once."_

_He needed Mickey to tell him._

_Mickey kicked him, instead._

***  
  
Mickey screwed up. Big time. Not really a surprise--it was only a matter of time before he wrecked everything with Ian. The redhead was too good for him, and he was better off without the neighborhood thug dragging him through the dirt all the time.

Mickey puffed at his cigarette, remembering the way Ian looked, laying on the ground, bleeding. Mickey did that. He hurt Ian. He hurt the one person who seemed to give a shit about him. Ian didn’t run when Mickey threatened him. He didn’t run when Mickey constantly told him that he was worthless to him. Hell, he didn’t even run after Terry caught them and beat the shit out of the both of them. Not to mention the rape. Mickey should have thanked him, but he hurt him, instead. Then, he _walked away_.

Ian deserved so much better than Mickey, so why was he even trying to stick around? Mickey wasn’t good to him at all. He knew Ian wanted someone to kiss him and hold is hand and _belong to_ , but Mickey couldn’t give him that. He had to keep him at arm's-length, because caring about someone--a _boy_ \--in the way he was starting to think he cared about Ian, was dangerous. That wasn’t okay in the South Side, and it was literally a death-wish in the Milkovich household. He couldn’t let Ian into whatever was left of his damaged, guarded heart, because they’d both get killed.

The only problem was, Ian somehow did it anyway. His red hair and stupid fucking freckles had managed to slip past Mickey’s defenses when he wasn’t looking, and right into his heart. Fuck, that sounded so girly, but it was true. Whether Mickey liked it or not, he found himself _wanting_ to be what Ian wanted from him. He _wanted_ to kiss him and hold his hand--he _wanted_ to belong to someone, and have them belong to him in return.

Did he actually _love_ Ian, though? Mickey didn’t have much experience in that department, so he wasn’t sure, but he knew he felt _something_ towards the boy. Something really stupid and warm and fuzzy that filled his stomach and chest whenever Ian texted him or laughed, and his freckled face rivaled the red in his hair.

Damn, what was that alien fucker doing to him? These were dangerous thoughts, and he _knew_ they weren’t smart, but was that knowledge enough to stop him from trying?

Of course not. Because Mickey is the king of bad ideas.

He wasn't sure when he had begun walking, but he found himself at the poorly-lit baseball field. As he neared the shadowed dugout, he heard a murmuring, and figured some stupid kids were in there, and he’d have to scare them out. Then he realized that he recognized the voice.

"He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not." Ian said quietly. "Damn."  
  
Mickey crept over to peer in at the redhead, and felt the need to scoff and roll his eyes at the idiocy of scene. Ian Gallagher was picking the fucking petals off of flowers, for fuck’s sake. There was a decent-sized pile of stems beside him, and a slightly smaller pile of white flowers next to it. Petals were littered everywhere around him--he'd been at this for awhile.  
  
There was a stupid kid in his dugout, after all.  
  
"He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me." Ian continued, oblivious to Mickey's presence.  
  
Mickey realized that flowers didn't grow anywhere near this baseball field, so Ian must have gone somewhere to pick all those damn flowers and then brought them back to the dugout, which had become their special spot over the last year. How fucking gay could you be?  
  
This was fate, Mickey was pretty sure. Something brought him to the baseball dugout at ten o'clock at night, where Ian happened to be having some sort of girlie struggle over love or some shit. This was the perfect opportunity to try to fix things with Ian, but could he do it? Could he take Ian down this road again, where there would be almost nothing but heartache for both of them? There was no happy ending for them. There couldn’t be. He couldn’t make Ian happy--he knew it, and Ian knew it. If he really attempted to fix things with the boy, it wouldn’t be fair, and he knew that, but he wasn’t so sure it was a choice anymore. Knowing that he would never be able to kiss or touch him again scared Mickey in a way he had never experienced before, and this came from a boy who was _raised_ on fear. The idea of losing Ian fucking _terrified_ him...more so than the fear of admitting the two things Ian wanted him to, he decided.

Ian tossed the stem into the designated pile, and moved onto the next flower.  
  
"He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.”

Mickey concluded at this point, that he had absolutely no control over his body. He hadn’t even realized that he was moving, until he was standing above Ian, roughly taking the flower away from him. Ian sat up quickly, surprised to see him there.

Mickey looked down at the half-plucked flower and bit his lip. This was a terrible idea. Ian deserved better. Too bad Mickey couldn’t let him go.

Mickey took a deep breath, ripped all the petals off in one motion, and whispered, “He loves you.”

A slow, disbelieving smile spread across Ian’s face, as he looked up at the older boy. Mickey felt that fuzzy warm feeling swirling around in his chest, as Ian’s green eyes stared at him like he was his whole fucking world.

“Did you just...Did you just say what I think you said?” Ian asked, after a few seconds.

Mickey shrugged, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. He was _way_ too open and vulnerable under Ian’s gaze, and he was having to fight the urge to run, with every fiber of his being. Ian seemed to sense this, and reached up to grab onto his forearm. He pulled him down to the ground, until Mickey was sitting beside him. Closer now, Mickey saw the purple bruise on Ian’s jaw, and looked down at the stem in his hands, ashamed.

Ian’s hand cupped Mickey’s cheek, forcing him to look at him. This was the most defenseless he had ever seen the thug, and he was savoring every second of this usually-hidden side of Mickey, because he knew it wasn’t likely that he was going to get to see him like this again any time soon. Turns out Mickey Milkovich _does_ have feelings buried somewhere deep inside him. A part of Ian felt exceptionally proud that he was being permitted to see them.

Ian stroked his thumb across Mickey’s smooth bottom lip, before leaning in and kissing him. It wasn’t violent or sloppily need-driven, like their usual ones; it was slow and sensual. Mickey’s fingers lightly touched Ian’s cheek, before trailing down the side of his neck and down his chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Ian reached his arms around and pulled the shorter boy into his lap, as Mickey’s tongue traced Ian’s bottom lip. The redhead moved his hands into Mickey’s sweatshirt and appreciatively groped at the defined muscles in his back. There was no denying that the raven-haired thug was hot as fuck, and Ian couldn’t believe he was the only person allowed to touch him, after they agreed to exclusivity a few months before.

This was probably the softest they had ever touched each other, but it was unquestionably the most intense. Mickey said he _loved_ him. He finally admitted it. Ian really wasn’t expecting his petal-picking to be seen at all, let alone have _this_ reaction. He was about ready to try to move on from Mickey--not likely, but ‘try’ was the key word--but now he knew that he was fucked. He was so hopelessly in love with this boy, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to move on.

Later that night, they laid side-by-side, looking up at the sky. There was a comfortable silence hanging over them as they listened to the faint sound of each other breathing. Ian was wondering if this really changed anything. Was Mickey still getting married? Probably. Were they officially together now? Ian had no idea. He didn’t need them to announce it and go public or anything, but it would be nice to refer to Mickey as his boyfriend in private. He contemplated asking, but right as he opened his mouth, Mickey spoke.

“Hey, Ian?”

“Hm?” Ian hummed, looking over at him. Mickey didn’t look back at him; he was too busy examining the sky and rubbing his bottom lip, nervously.

“I…” Mickey started, obviously struggling with something. For a split-second, Ian was worried that Mickey was going to take back what he said earlier, but that thought was destroyed as he continued. “I’m gay. Thought you should know.”

“Thank God.” Ian smiled, relieved. “I was starting to think that I was wasting my time on some straight dude. Would’ve been a shame--you’re pretty damn cute.”

“Shut up, Firecrotch; I ain’t cute.” Mickey laughed, grateful for the redhead’s playfulness. Ian knew Mickey had done way more heavy emotional shit in the last hour than he was even remotely comfortable to, so he was helping him out. That was one of the many things Mickey appreciated about him: he always seemed to know what was going on inside his head, before he even knew himself. Mickey very rarely had to use his words, which made things a lot easier, because Mickey wasn’t good at that.

“Hey, Mickey?” Ian said after a few seconds.

“Yeah?” Mickey asked

“I love you, too. Thought you should know."

Mickey looked over at Ian and smiled. “I know.”

They held eye-contact for a another beat or two, and then looked back up at the sky.

Ian noticed that Mickey’s hand was close to his, and felt the need to grab it. He would have just gone for it, if it was any other day, but he didn’t want to push Mickey after he finally opened up to him. He inched his hand a little closer and draped his pinkie over Mickey’s, testing if he was going to freak out. Mickey stilled for a moment, before relaxing a bit, and Ian decided he could probably get away with this. He wrapped his finger around Mickey’s so that they were holding pinkies, and couldn’t help the grin from playing across his lips as Mickey’s pinkie squeezed his in return.

After all of his mistakes, Mickey finally felt that he had made a leap in the right direction. Ian was his right direction, and he was done being scared.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and (nice) Comments are appreciated!
> 
> Thank you for reading; I hope this made you smile :)


End file.
